Lessons in Love
by BitchPrincessOfPunkRock
Summary: The first time Sirius Black loved something about Remus Lupin, he was eleven years old. Sirius/Remus. A series of moments when Sirius noticed something he loved about Remus over their time at school.
1. Lesson the First, Realities

_**Another short story for you. This time about Sirius. It is slash, but I don't think it'll be anything explicit or particularly mature. There will be fairly severe swearing later on, but I'm trying very hard to keep it age appropriate, so they're only eleven here and are relatively innocent.**_

_**Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading, Reviews always make me smile. Thank you! **_

**Lessons in Love**

**Lesson the First - Realities**

The first time Sirius Black loved something about Remus Lupin he was eleven.

It wasn't an instant connection like it was with James Potter, when they stumbled into the compartment at the same time and argued over who had the rights to it. By the end of that first journey on the Hogwarts express it felt like the two had known one another all their lives.

Soulmates, some would have said. Not the boys in question, certainly, but some. Others compared them to twins - so alike in looks and personality, both born and raised purebloods from ancient wizarding families. Always on the same page, able to communicate with twitches and little gestures more than with words. Two of a kind.

With Remus it was different. Always so different.

Maybe that was the attraction. Remus was the complete opposite of what Sirius had always been told was _good_ and _right _and _proper._ But he was probably the most good, right and proper person Sirius met that first day. And continued to be so throughout the first week.

He was a half-blood, Sirius overheard him telling the little blond boy, Peter, one night in the dorm the four of them shared. This was even more peculiar. Half-bloods, Sirius mother had enthused, were tainted by their Muggle blood. They were less than a proper wizard. Walburga had never answered, though, when Sirius asked that question beloved by all children of a certain age; _Why?_

He realised then that she had never had the answer to give. Because however he looked at the quiet mousy boy, he was no less than Sirius and James were at all. One by one, Sirius found his mother lectures falling apart, losing any meaning they had left.

' _Stupid mud bloods, don't know what they're doing! And contaminating our kind like they insist on doing so rapidly, we'll soon be hiring Muggles as tutors, Orion, honestly!'_

Remus was resolutely a top five student in every class - even Potions, with which he seemed to struggle sometimes. If he didn't understand something, he shut himself away in the library until he did. That kind of thirst for knowledge couldn't be faked for anything.

' _Absolutely filthy, these people, Sirius! You'll be tainted even looking at them, dirty animals…'_

Remus was undoubtedly the cleanest boy in their dorm. He showered twice a day, and got up earlier than them just so he had time to make his bed and fold his clothes properly. He wasn't _filthy_ by any definition of the word.

' … _didn't even have the decency to address us properly! Appalling, really. What kind of rude, uncultured people…'_

And Remus certainly couldn't be defined as _rude_ or _uncultured_. He had better day-to-day manners than Sirius, who had been trained in the art since he was old enough to stand. He could hardly ever be found with his nose out of a book, seeming to go through them at record pace and excluding nothing - from Muggle novels to wizarding histories to potions textbooks.

These were all reasons Sirius was fascinated by Remus Lupin. It was always different with Remus.

So, after fortnight if school, Sirius made an effort to befriend him, in that no-nonsense way he had.

' You look terrible,' he pointed out, when Remus returned from a visit to his Aunt at St. Mungo's.

' I hadn't realised, thanks,' came the reply, tired but humoured.

' What happened?' Sirius asked, peering unashamedly at the brand new, shiny white scar on the corner of Remus' mouth. ' Get in to a fight with a frisky Manticore?'

' You should've seen how he looks now I've done with him. Good thing he was at the hospital anyway.'

' Yeah, they'll let anything be a nurse nowadays,' Sirius laughed, and was pleased to see Remus doing the same.

Sirius decided he liked the boy. That quiet boy who read all the time and studied incessantly, but who clearly had a sense of humour and something more playful under that guarded exterior.

Sirius liked Remus, because he was everything his mother hated and he wasn't any less of a decent person for it. He wasn't like the _proper_ people Sirius was used to dealing with, tolerating. Remus was the opposite of everything Sirius had been taught to like, and Sirius liked him anyway.

He liked him because of the little flashes of insecurity he saw every now and again in those chocolate brown eyes. Brief moments when he realised that Remus was as surprised to find himself a Gryffindor at Hogwarts as Sirius himself was. Something made him feel out of place, different.

' Want to help me curse James' robes pink?' He asked, hopefully, grabbing his wand from his bed and holding it elegantly in his right hand like he'd been shown by his father.

Remus didn't hesitate in pulling out his own wand, offering up a mischievous grin, and Sirius loved that he held it comfortably in his left hand.


	2. Lesson the Second, Secrets

_**This took longer than it should have to post, and I apologise profusely for it. God, I love boys being boys. They're just so fun to write. I don't know what possessed me to include the diary extract, but I love it. It just seems like a very James thing to do.**_

**Lessons in Love series **

**Lesson the Second - Secrets**

It was just after the Easter holidays of their second year that Sirius, James and Peter connected all of the dots. When they did, he was a little astounded that they worked it out and more than a little appalled that he didn't do so months earlier.

It was all so obvious afterwards, looking back. All the poor excuses, more ill relatives than it is physiologically possible to have and a great grandmother that must've died at least three times. Absences like clockwork, every four weeks without fail. And always coming back looking exhausted and visibly sore, sometimes limping or walking stiffly.

Peter, of all people, had been the first to take notice - pointing out the newer injuries and the old scars, throwing out words like _neglect _and _abuse._ For the two smartest boys in their year, Sirius and James had been remarkably slow on the uptake, and both had fervently denied all of Peter's observations. Repeatedly and forcefully.

Sirius liked to tell himself that he was respecting Remus' privacy by not prying. The truth was probably that he was a little afraid that if they got too much into what constituted 'abuse' and 'neglect' he wouldn't be able to restrain himself from blurting out everything about his own family, which delved quite deeply into both of those categories.

James, for whatever reason, also seemed eager to ignore Peter's observation at first. Sirius, however, wasn't his best friend for nothing. He had known James long enough by then to know he had a rather significant noble streak, an urge to play the hero in every story. He could see it boiling over, churning in James mind more and more often. Sometimes Sirius had to nudge him forcefully in the ribs to stop him from staring at Remus like he was an interesting puzzle.

' I've had enough!' James declared, the next time Remus vanished amid mutterings of a sickly parent. ' I need to know what's going on!'

Sirius couldn't help but laugh. ' God forbid you don't know something eh, Jamie?'

' Don't call me that,' he snapped, then added dejectedly, ' I can't cope with this for five more years.'

' You can't stand that he might be being hurt, can you? Bloody hell, your nobility is annoying.'

' You want to know as much as I do!'

' Out of pure curiosity!' Sirius lied.

' We all want to know,' Peter chimed in from the window seat. ' We're all worried about him.'

' Well then,' James said, face lighting up with mischief. ' I say we find out.'

* * *

It was almost two months later when they continued the discussion. It would have been one, but a spontaneous urge to charm the toilets to regurgitate everything landed them all in detention on the night of Remus' mysterious excursion. They had all agreed to watch him closer, then decide what to do about it while he was absent.

Remus had left earlier that afternoon. Peter was once again perched on the windowsill, James was sprawled sideways across his bed and Sirius lay spread-eagled on the floor between James and his own four-poster.

' What if it is abuse?'

' It just doesn't make sense!'

' What other options are there? He goes off with his dad and comes back bruised to buggery!'

' It just doesn't sit right,' Sirius pressed. ' He talks about his family all the time, perfectly happily. He wouldn't be able to-'

' It's called pretending! Anybody can do it! Would you want people to know your dad hit you?'

_No_, Sirius thought. _That's why I haven't told you. _

' No, but…' He wanted to say _I'd know, I'd be able to tell_, but he couldn't, so he said instead, ' Nobody's that good at pretending.'

' Well maybe Remus is,' James said, rather pathetically. ' What do you think, Pete?'

Peter didn't move, still staring out of the window.

' Peter?' James repeated, a bit louder. Still no response.

Sirius clamber silently off the floor and inched towards the smallest boy as quietly as he could. When he was close enough, he leaned down and huffed a breath at the nape of Peter's neck, making him shiver, before grabbing his shoulders suddenly. It had the desired effect, causing the littler boy to jump comically high before landing in a heap.

' Back with us now?' James laughed as Peter pulled himself back into some sort of human shape.

' Yeah, thanks. Just what I needed, scaring half to death. Who'd have thought.'

' You looked lost in thought, Petey-boy. Easy enough, I suppose. Not somewhere you go often, is it? Thought I'd give you a hand getting out again.'

Peter only humphed at Sirius as he settled himself back on the windowsill.

' I was looking at the moon,' he said with great dignity for someone who had moments before been a tangled mass on the floor. ' It's full tonight, nice and bright. It was last time we talked about this, too.' He looked thoughtful, then turned to the others, smiling slightly. ' Don't suppose you think Remus is a werewolf?'

Though clearly stated as a joke, the words hung between them. James gawked at Peter then at Sirius, who was staring back with wide eyes.

' You don't-'

' - could be-'

' - never have-'

' - have you got-'

' Yeah, over here. You grab-'

' Don't need it.'

James ran to his bed and pulled an old black journal out from under his mattress. Sirius waited for him to flick through it. It was over half full, all the pages covered in James haphazardly scrawled writing. When he reached the right page, he scanned it quickly, then clamped the book against his chest.

' Go on,' he said, nodding to Sirius. ' Then I know you aren't just guessing.'

Sirius thought for a moment, working it out in his head, then said with every confidence, ' Eighteenth.'

' Bugger,' was James' only reply, having no doubt about Sirius' Astronomy knowledge.

He held out the book revealing a page that was headed with the date.

_18th__ March, 1973_

_Alas. The day of retribution hath arrived. Detention. Worse still, detention with McGooglies. I have it better off than Sirius though, because he is stuck with Slughorn, who will no doubt rant the entire time about the travesty of Sirius' miss-sorting. Peter is with Merlin-only-knows-who. Possibly Filch. I can't remember. I hope it is. He deserves it, for not being the voice of reason and telling us what an awful idea it is to make toilets regurgitate. For future reference - it is, indeed, well and truly, god-fearingly awful. __Never do it again__._

' Bugger,' Sirius echoed. Three full moons in a row was a bit more than coincidence.

They stared at one another across the open book before a very pale looking Peter stepped forward and muttered, ' But I was only joking.'

* * *

Not one of them slept that night, though they didn't really talk much either. The day passed in a strange, anticipatory hush that nobody wanted to break. When Remus returned to the dorm after dinner, it was nearly silent. Two boys sat on their own beds, and Sirius himself was settled firmly on Remus'.

' Alright, Remus?' James greeted. ' How's your mum?'

He was forcing a casual tone and failing miserably. It was a fact Remus clearly picked up on, because he froze in the middle of walking to his trunk. He stiffened and eyed them warily. Sirius thought he looked more like a squirrel, in that moment, than a wolf.

His gaze flicked from James, who was trying his damndest to smile normally, to Peter, who was trying to hide behind a particularly small looking throw pillow, to Sirius, who raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Remus swallowed visibly before he asked quietly, ' What's up?'

James opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius held up a hand to stop him. Thankfully it worked. James would no doubt have gone into an encouraging talk about loyalty and friendship and the like, which would end up a twenty-or-so minute presentation. Not to mention a complete tangent.

There was a time and a place for tact, and this wasn't it.

' We know,' Sirius said, voice clear and loud in the quiet room. ' Let's drop the pretence, eh?'

' Right,' Remus said, with a resigned little smile. ' Of course you do. Trust me to befriend the smartest boys in the year.'

' Try in the school,' Sirius grinned. ' I mean, did anyone else figure it out?'

' No,' Remus answered, giving Sirius a strange closed look but keeping his calm. ' No, they didn't. Won't have the chance now, I suppose.' He sighed. ' I'll just get my stuff and then I'll go.'

' What?' Sirius said, voice rising a bit with his surprise. ' Go where?'

' You can't leave!' James cried, jumping off his bed.

It was Remus' turn to sound surprised, ' You don't want me to-'

' Of course not!' James shouted, moving closer still.

' Why would we want that?' Sirius asked, genuinely confused.

' You couldn't possibly still want to share a room with me,' Remus explained, as though it were obvious. When neither boy reacted, he added, ' I'm a monster.'

The dark-haired boys exchanged a look, then smirked.

' The only monster in this room,' James said.

' Is the one that lives under Pete's bed,' Sirius finished.

Peter, who had not spoken at all, looked startled at being dragged into the conversation.

' There isn't anything living under my bed,' he mumbled, eyeing the foot of it warily nonetheless. After a moments hesitation, he scrambled off it and joined the other three in the middle of the room.

Remus looked a little stunned. His expression was carefully blank, forced calm, but Sirius took note of how he was blinking more often than strictly necessary and a little crease appeared between his eyebrows. James must have noticed too, because he threw his arm around the werewolf and gave him a stunted sort of half-hug in the way only teenage boys can.

' We've lived with you for nearly two years, Remus,' James said.

' We know you aren't a monster,' Sirius elaborated. ' At least not twenty eight days out of twenty nine.'

' And we can forgive you the one,' Peter put in, grinning sheepishly.

Remus stopped his excessive blinking to stare at the smallest of them, eyebrow raising out of habit. Sirius looked at James, who was beaming proudly at Pete, then burst into laughter. The others followed fairly swiftly, and after a very incoherent quarter of an hour they had been reduced to a heap of gangling limbs and little hiccups of mirth.

Sirius will always remember that Remus didn't cry.


	3. Lesson the Third, Differentials

_**Once again, sorry for the lapse in updates. Life. What can I say? Anyway, I'm a bit iffy about this chapter. I hated it to start with, but it has grown on me. It sort of veered off while I was writing it, and turned into something completely different to what I'd intended. I dunno. Hope it isn't too bad for you. I like the next one better.**_

**Lessons in Love**

**Lesson the Third - Differentials**

In third year they discovered their separate talents.

It seemed very strange to Sirius that after two whole years of bonding and growing together, resolving the group dynamic, the Marauders - thus named after a comment made by McGoogles during a particularly repetitive, and almost completely ignored, lecture about appropriate behaviour - had suddenly developed outside interests.

It wasn't even as though Sirius couldn't function without them - he had, after all, survived eleven years and two summer holidays in Grimmauld Place, alone in his sanity against the tirade of Pureblood fascism. It was much more about the fact that he hadn't needed to in term time before. And he was less than happy about it.

James was thrilled to hear about the open Quidditch tryouts, because there had been no openings on the team last year but now there were four. Having been raised on one-on-one matches with his dad in their expanse of a garden, James could effectively play any position he wanted, and tried out for all three available slots - Keeper, Chaser and Seeker. After a full day of rigorous challenges he was heartily accepted as a Chaser, along with a girl in their year called Dorcas Meadows.

This was all well and good, and Sirius tried to be happy for his best mate, but Marlene McKinnon - an eccentrically obsessive girl the year above them, and, credit where credit's due, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain at only fourteen - scheduled practices three to five times a week.

Remus read. Often and infuriatingly ignorantly. Sirius split Remus' literary habits into three categories. He either vanished to the library for hours on end, which was Category One - Schoolwork, and involved homework based reading, general research or crosschecking facts, or he snuggled into a nest of blankets in the dorm for Category Two - Leisure, which normally meant Muggle novels his mum sent him and a distinct silence from behind his closed bed curtains. Category Three - Miscellaneous was usually research for Marauder activities, or reading the latest book on Werewolf studies, both of which involved sharing with the rest of them, and was thus the only acceptable option in Sirius' opinion.

Sirius, contrary to popular belief, didn't mind books. He actually enjoyed reading a good story, having little else to do in Grimmauld Place but work his way through the library, and could even stomach the long-winded History of Magic textbooks if they contained a good, gory description on the more brutal Goblin wars every once in a while. What really pissed him off was how reclusive Remus was with a book in his hand. _Absorbed in literature _was a literal statement with Remus, who would sink into an imperturbable bubble of selective deafness until he was finished.

Even Peter, who struggled more than the rest of them to socialise with other students without stuttering incoherently, managed to find something to do. He actually impressed them all and joined several clubs - Wizards Chess, Gobstones and a group that liked to do little tricks and call it Muggle "magic" - because his uncle had advised that it might boost his confidence to be around more people.

That they were actually developing useful maraudering skills didn't ease his annoyance, either. What did it matter, really, that James could run faster or that Remus knew the library restricted section like the back of his hand or that Peter always had an exit strategy if they never had time to plan anything together in the first place?

Needless to say, Sirius found himself suffering rather incurable boredom a little more often than he liked. It was on one such afternoon that he found himself boiling over in his agitation.

James had just left for Quidditch, which was a tactical layout rather than a practice and therefore explicitly for the teams eyes only, and Peter had wandered off to his Chess club, which Sirius never attended because it is such a boring game to watch. He was alone in the dorm. Or, he might as well have been. Remus was shut tight in his four-poster, as per Category Two.

' I'm bored,' Sirius whined, to himself as no one else was listening.

He had been staring at his scarlet hangings for twenty minutes of silence, broken only by the occasional whisper of clothes on bed sheets. He had been ever so slightly cheered by he pattering sound of rain on the stone walls five minutes in, but it was short lived and the soundlessness was grating. He sighed and threw himself off the side of the bed, landing on his knees and stretching his back appreciatively.

' Right,' he muttered, striding across to the closed curtains and wrenching them apart forcefully, trying to make the rasping of fastenings as loud as possible in the stillness of the room. ' I'm fed up.'

' Hmm,' Remus replied, neither stirring from his prone position nor looking up at all.

' Remus,' Sirius whined, putting on his best petulant voice – tried and tested on his mother. ' Please can we do something?'

' Please?' Remus repeated, mumbling almost to himself but not quite. ' Bloody hell, you must be desperate.'

' Of course I am!' Sirius cried, too glad of a reaction to keep up any sort of affronted tone. ' We are becoming predictable. And predictable is boring. And Marauders can't be boring. Marauders _maraud_!'

' Are we really?' Remus asked, sounding mildly interested but keeping his eyes trained solely on his book.

' Yes,' Sirius confirmed. ' Yes, we are.'

' How so?'

' I… What?'

Now Remus glanced over the dog-eared pages, eyes flickering up only enough to settle in the region of Sirius' knees. ' How,' he said quietly, ' Exactly, are we becoming predictable?'

' Well,' Sirius started, slowly. He hadn't expected to be questioned and was caught a little off guard, but he'd be damned if he'd admit that. ' Jimmy-the-lad's the popular Quidditch star. Petey-boy's the nervous, geeky tag-along. And you. Well, you're the bookworm.'

' What about you?'

' Well, obviously, I'm the gorgeous, charismatic ringleader.'

Remus' mouth twitched slightly before he controlled it and said calmly, ' You're wrong.'

' Am not,' Sirius whinged, ' I am gorgeous. And I am most certainly charismatic. And, well, alright. I'm not strictly the ringleader, but I'm definitely up there on the hierarchy.' Then he added, a bit haughtily and a bit childishly, ' Higher than _you_ anyway.'

' Well, yes,' Remus laughed, ' But that isn't what I meant.'

' Don't leave me in suspense, Lupin.'

' Alright,' he said, finally putting aside the book - after marking his page with a folded corner - and sitting up properly. ' Yes, James is the popular team-player. He's also a pampered little transfiguration swot. Which I suppose makes him a Mummy's-boy Sport-star Swot. Peter's a bit shy and -'

' - socially inept, more like -'

' - quiet,' Remus continued, ignoring the interruption. ' But he's a very good reader of people, and an impeccable strategist. And, well, I'm a bookworm werewolf. Enough said, don't you think?'

' Bookworm Werewolf. There's got to be an oxymoron in there, somewhere.'

' You're an oxymoron,' Remus commented.

' I'll oxy your moron,' Sirius retorted.

' No, really. I mean, how much more oxymoronic can you get than a Gryffindor Black?'

' What was your point again?'

' Predictable people are only ever one thing. We're, for lack of a better term, more complex. It's more interesting, don't you think?'

' I guess I'd rather be an oxymoron than be predictable,' Sirius conceded.

He slouched down on the bed next to Remus, who shuffled up to accommodate.

After a thoughtful silence, Sirius asked quietly, ' Do you ever think, maybe we're just trying too hard to balance ourselves out?'

Remus paused before asking, ' What do you mean?'

' Like,' Sirius faltered, not knowing how to proceed. He decided on the direct approach. ' Okay. Like, you're a werewolf.' Remus raised his eyebrows sarcastically. ' So you're this neat, quiet little well-read professor type of person, to make up for losing control every full moon. I don't know, I'm explaining this badly. Forget it.'

Sirius clamped his mouth shut, a little embarrassed, and kept his eyes focused on the bedpost in front of him. He could practically feel Remus staring at side of his head, that horribly calculating look on his otherwise unreadable face.

' Forget it,' Sirius insisted, standing up. ' Can we do something, now? Please?'

' Alright. Music?' Remus suggested, gesturing towards the Wizarding Wireless on Peter's nightstand. Sirius had - in one of his frequent bouts of boredom - modified it to play muggle radio channels as well. ' Muggle or Magic?'

' Either,' Sirius said, then changed his mind. ' Magic. The muggle ones don't tune in very well in the rain. I suppose you listen to something very ambiguous, don't you Mr. Oxymoron? What's the guilty pleasure, bit of Celestina Warbleck?'

Remus halted in fiddling with the radio's dials to look up at his grinning friend. Then he said, very calmly and with only the hint of a smile, ' I prefer a bit of Pink Floyd, to be honest.'

Sirius was not bored for the rest of the evening, having managed to pick up a very roughly tuned stream of the muggle station _Radio One_, and singing and dancing about like such idiots that James accused them of being drunk when he trudged in, soaking wet and frozen to the bone, just ten minutes before curfew.

And he loved that Remus managed to convince James he'd imagined it all the following morning.


	4. Lesson the fourth, Adorations

_**Many, many apologies for the delay. My computer decided to die, so I lost all my files. Not great for a snippet writer like myself, who had over fifty little idea files saved. Moo.**_

_**Anyway. Yes, apologies. Moving on; the chapter. I rather like this one. And, y'know, sort of fitting for Valentines on Monday, I suppose - God, I hate this holiday.**_

_**Hope you like it. Thanks for reading, reviews make me smile!**_

**Lessons in Love**

**Lesson the Fourth - Adorations**

Fourth year is when everything changed.

Before that mid-point everyone was equal in everything; boys were boys and girls were girls. Lily Evans was the annoyingly rule-abiding smart-arse that James and Sirius made a point of beating in every subject, just because they could. Girls would huddle in giggling groups, talking about _those horrible boys and their mean, rude pranks._ Boys would gather more conspiratorially, plotting and planning or talking about _those silly girls and their pretty, frilly things and cringe-worthy high-pitched cackling._

When they returned from summer and started fourth year, everyone was different.

Girls were suddenly giggling about how _cute_ and _sweet_ and _handsome_ the boys had gotten. And the boys were now plotting how to get those _pretty, lovely young ladies_ to go with them the next Hogsmead weekend. Three months at home and suddenly eighty percent of Sirius Black's classmates had completely lost their marbles.

As if that wasn't bad enough, James Potter was one of them.

Sirius received forty seven letters that summer from James, and not a single one did not contain a list of Lily Evans' virtues. The James Potter that boarded the train on the first of September was thoroughly obsessed, and he didn't waste any time in letting the object of his affections know. Lily didn't waste any time in expressing her distaste of the idea, either, and James found himself nursing a horse tail and the ability only to _neigh_ for the entirety of the journey.

And so passed the first half of fourth year - a mash of first crushes and first dates and first kisses, all equally abysmal and embarrassing and usually involving an unnecessary amount of unwantd bodily fluid. Sirius, for his part, was completely uninterested. In his opinion, girls were still just girls, complete with all the shrill annoyingness and as decorated in hideous frills and garish make-up as they ever were.

It started out quite funny, to watch all those hapless lads making complete fools of themselves for the sake of love. Particularly James, who seemed to like being made a tit of in front of everybody so much that he approached Evans more than three times a week. But even this lost it's charm, and after several months of painful attempts at courtship all around, it began to get a little tedious.

Christmas came and brought with it the attack of mistletoe baring harpies and raging bundles of hormones unleashed upon the castle. Dumbledore - truly an evil man, beneath all the façade of sparkling eyes and that wise-old-man beard - had transfigured the normally harmless shrub into a strange half-spider creature, which crawled along the ceilings and swooped down on unsuspecting students at the most inopportune moments.

Sirius, always a good sport, graciously partook in seventeen Christmas kisses with blushing girls and half as many again with even more fiercely blushing boys, all in the name of holiday cheer. He accepted them with a grin and a wink, and then rebuked their offers of a visit to Madam Puddifoot's with a very polite, ' Sod off, you daft tosser.'

There was a small respite after Christmas, which served only to provide the troops with planning time between the Total Route at the battle of Under-the-Mistletoe and the Second Assault on the Day of Saint Valentines.

James Potter, for one, did not waste that valuable time. He made a proposal of courtship to Lily Evans every day for the twelve leading up to the 14th of February, each more elaborate than the next and culminating in an extensive plot involving transfigured bouquet's of roses, singing origami birds and a flock of live turtledoves. Lily retaliated beautifully, managing a different combination of hexes in response to each new attempt to woo her, all the while keeping them festive. James spent one day with his skin charmed luminous pink and another with his hair transfigured into a flowery shrub in bloom with the most obnoxious purple and yellow buds Sirius had ever seen, which was considered rather an improvement by his dorm-mates.

The nearer the dreaded day drew, the worse things got. Boys threw flowers, cards and chocolates at girls willy-nilly, shouting nonsensical endearments at nobody in particular. Girls got giddier, more secretive and, bizarrely, more glittery.

Love, Sirius decided, is a lot like the plague. Only, instead of pus-filled buboes, all the boys develop an equally disgusting habit of shouting out similes about eyes and jewels. It was just such the case on the afternoon on the dreaded Valentines Day itself.

' - like emeralds, Sirius. Jade that's caught in the moonlight -'

' Have you ever seen jade? In any light?'

' That isn't the point, and you know it! This is-'

' Important, we know,' Sirius sighed. ' It's also really starting to annoy the hell out of me! Her eyes are green, James! Green! Not Emerald or Jade or Moss or the-mould-that-grows-on-Snivelly's-arse coloured! They're pissing well green, alright?'

' Well,' said James, pulling himself to his full height - which wasn't very impressive - and adopting the haughty air worthy of the House of Black - which was equally unimpressive to Sirius, who had grown up with the real thing, ' I suppose you'd know all about what grows on Snivellus' backside, wouldn't you? Hmm.'

He tried to walk away dignifiedly, but his dishevelled robes were such a juxtaposition to his stiff posturing that Sirius only managed to collapse into a fit of giggles.

' You could have just wished him good luck, you know.'

' But where would the fun be in that, Mah-Mah-Mah-Moony!'

Sirius emphasised the nickname and wiggled his eyebrows gleefully for good measure. Remus scowled, but didn't comment. Sirius was rather proud to have come up with the name, even if Remus loathed it.

' Stop it,' he had said, after the first documented use of said nickname in the Great Hall one lunchtime. ' People will hear.'

' So?' Sirius had asked. ' It's not like they understand it.'

' No, but it's giving them a massive hint! Just because they haven't worked it out yet doesn't mean they won't ever. You might as well walk about with a sign above my head!'

' Me think the lady doth protest too much,' was the reply, and Remus hadn't argued verbally since.

Sirius liked the name. Not least because he thought it up. It was apt, in a strange sort of way. James had wondered if it was a bit too _cuddly _for a werewolf, but Sirius reminded him it was a nickname for Remus, not the wolf. And Remus was hardly a ferocious beast when he could help it. Except, occasionally, when all his socks were missing - and that really had nothing to do with the fact that Sirius had been stealing them all winter.

Sirius took it as his personal goal to make the name stick and used it as often as possible - if only to see Remus do that funny little half-pout half-scowl thing he did when he was annoyed.

And that was the reason Sirius knew it didn't really bother Remus at all. Because he only did that funny little half-pout half-scowl thing when he was pretending to be annoyed - a scowl is easy enough to fake but the pout it badly suppressed amusement, or possibly exasperation. It's sort of like the way McGooglies frowns when she's telling them off for a particularly funny prank, forcing her mouth to turn downwards to stop the smile from escaping. Sirius learned how to read them both pretty quickly.

' So,' Sirius said, plonking himself down on the settee next to Remus, ' Not got a big date planed, Moony?'

Remus shot him a look that said plainly _You know I haven't_, and opened his mouth to relay exactly that, but was cut across by the very amused voice of Dorcas Meadows.

' Moony? What you calling him that for?'

' Why do you think, you daft sod. It's a nickname.'

' Well yeah,' she said, putting her hands on her hips in an exaggerated gesture of impatience. ' I got that all on my own. But why?'

' Why do you think?' Sirius repeated, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Dorcas stared for a minute, then raised her own blonde eyebrows in surprise. ' Surely not… Remus? Really?'

' Oh yes,' assured Sirius. ' Right little exhibitionist, aren't you Moons?'

Remus quickly glanced at Sirius - _Fair game _- before calmly looking up at a waiting Dorcas. ' What can I say? It's a compulsion.'

She flicked her eyes suspiciously between them, before stating, ' Go on then. I'll bite. Who?'

' That would be telling.'

' Ah. Of course.'

Sirius looked at her properly for the first time, and noticed something.

' You're all tarted up today. Don't tell me you've gone all girly on me, Dorkface?'

' Yeah,' she said, unabashed. ' I've sort of got a date. Best be off. See you later, Sirius. Bye, Moony.'

And Sirius loved that Remus didn't even do that funny little half-pout half-scowl thing. Success!


	5. Lesson the Fifth, Conflictions

**Hmm. Update. Wahay. **

**It took me a while to get the inspiration for this chapter, sorry for the delay. I don't really have much to say, quick update while I have a breather from work for a few minutes. **

**Reviews let me know I'm not wasting my time, thank you! **

**Lessons in Love**

**Lesson the Fifth - Conflictions**

Fifth year was when Sirius learned how truly wrong people were about Remus.

Not even the big one, either. Obviously, he'd known about that misconception for three years already. But the little things too.

The school's general population were in two minds about Remus.

Half seemed to think he was the innocent bystander. Always unsuspecting, dragged unknowingly into the mischief and the pranks, like he had no idea what was going on until the moment it happened.

Sirius suspected that the student body just wanted to feel like somebody else was as clueless as they were, and Remus played it out better. He could always make himself look genuinely surprised, a talent James had always envied.

The other half classified Remus as the secret mastermind. They thought he was the one that snuck them books from the restricted section of the Library - which was not only not true but, let's face it, was much easier with the invisibility cloak anyway - and sat in the dorm scheming away at all hours of the night.

Bizarrely, none of these people seemed to remember that Moony was the one shut up in the library, or dormitory, studying.

James, in true Prongsie fashion, took it as a compliment that their fellow students refused to believe Sirius and himself were brilliant enough to come up with the more complicated, showy Pranks without help.

Sirius wasn't too sure that's what it meant at all, but he knew better than to argue.

Of course, the Marauder's knew Remus. Or at least, they knew him as well as anybody did.

Because Remus was a very good chameleon. He could fit into almost any social circle at Hogwarts - bar the Slytherins, of course, and their idiotic purist ideals.

Remus, who would sit silently in the library, pouring over his books, and then head down to the Quidditch pitch to cheer unashamedly for the Gryffindors.

Remus, who would sit with them for hours some nights, planning a particularly technical scheme - as long as it wasn't dangerous - and help knock out the kinks, but he'd always remind them they had homework to do in the evenings.

Remus, who could patiently go through Peter's botched essay and slowly explain the errors, but who would sometimes sit with that Ravenclaw bloke - Swanson, was it? - because he wanted a longwinded, heated debate about the politics down in London.

Most of the time, Sirius thought of Remus as somebody who was very good at fitting in.

Obviously, with a condition like his in a world as prejudiced as it is, one of the vital life-skills is blending in. Going unnoticed.

It was Remus' camouflage, protection. His defence against the world that labelled him and then detested him for it.

It was necessary, for reason completely out of his control.

But, sometimes, when Sirius was feeling particularly stung, or abandoned, or bitter, he told himself Remus was just two-faced. Plain and simple.

He was hedging his bets, keeping as many options open as he could because he didn't want to commit to any one of them.

Sirius supposed it didn't really matter what other people thought of Remus anyway, be it him, or Swanson from Ravenclaw, or the tiny little firsties.

The truth was, at the moment, Remus was a bit of a bastard.

He could be perfectly and authoritative. He could be friendly and fun. He could be Marauderly and devious; Studious and punctual; Motherly and caring; Loving and devoted.

But he had a special, reserved kind of hatred for the people who crossed him and the people he cared about.

Unfortunately, Sirius now sat somewhere in the middle of those two categories.

He had been a complete idiot and nearly gotten one of his best friends killed, and another outed as not only werewolf but as, essentially, a murderer. Dumbledore would have been lynched. The marauder's could've been found out, arrested for being unregistered animagi.

He had been an idiot. Complete and utter fucking idiot.

And Moony hated him.

Sirius had tried to apologise the morning after. He'd practically grovelled, pleading for forgiveness. Remus had completely blanked him.

That had been harder to take than anger. He'd been prepared for anger, the bollocking of his life. He'd have welcomed a lecture, or a breakdown or anything.

All he got was a stony silence and deliberately evasive glances.

For weeks.

Endless days of whispers as he passes and dirty looks across classrooms.

He was friendless and, sensing a disadvantage, the Slytherins had taken to picking fights with him as often as possible. They seemed to think he was defenceless without Prongs at his side.

They were wrong, and Sirius took grim satisfaction in the fact that, while he sported a bust lip, Avery was still in the hospital wing with a cactus growing out of his nostrils.

For the most part, it had been like living back at Grimmauld Place months before he had to be - Alone and loathed and a target for people with more brawn than brain, but at the same time, something interesting, to be stared at and muttered about.

It was driving him mad.

And now he was sitting on the top of the least used tower in Hogwarts, nursing a fire whiskey, with blood dripping down his wrist.

Sirius stared down at the stark, shiny red line making it's way from the corner of a cut to the end of his finger, curling around the joint of his thumb and sticking in the creases of his palm.

It'd been an accident.

He'd tripped, not even drunk yet, on a dip in the stone. A bottle in each hand, and instinct had been to throw them out to break his fall.

Instead, he'd skinned all the fingers of his right hand and shattered the bottle in his left.

The glass scattered everywhere, and when he hit the ground, the shards had sliced the flesh of his forearm.

So he was staring at it. The three deep gashes, dripping blood like he didn't need it, and half a dozen more that were longer but shallower. A graze along the inside of his wrist, too, that stung with each movement.

And, bizarrely, it kind of helped.

He felt calmer, watching himself suffer. Lord knows he deserved it.

It occurred to him that he could end it.

Right there, and then. No fuss, nobody to care. One good hack with a sharp edge, and it wouldn't matter that Everyone hated him.

He grabbed the largest shard of glass, and wiped it on his trousers. He almost laughed at himself, being so finicky.

Sirius ran his fingers over the cool material before lifting it to his wrist, just above the still bleeding gashes. He pressed down, enough to feel the pressure but not to break the skin.

He sighed, and let the shard clatter to the floor again.

' Bollocks,' he muttered, running a hand over his face.

' I thought Black's were too stubborn to give up.'

Sirius started, not having heard anybody approach, and not expecting it to be Remus in any case.

He hadn't recovered enough to speak before Remus spoke up again.

' You could,' he said slowly, leaning over the edge of the tower and glancing down deliberately. ' Jump.'

' Remus… I - What?'

' Jump,' he repeated, voice emotionless. ' It's what any coward would do.'

And he slinked off, back into the castle.

Sirius was left speechless, a bubbling anger growing in his chest.

Nobody called Sirius Black a _coward_. He'd lasted this long with the prejudices of his familly, he could manage a poxy little werewolf sulk for a bit longer.

' Fuck,' he shouted, aiming a kick at the wall.

He cast a quick healing charm on his arm, and descended to the kitchens to drown himself in apple pie.

Later, when he'd calmed down, he'd love knowing how well Remus understood him.

He'd love it even more the morning after, when Moony sat next to him at breakfast, and asked him to pass the butter.


End file.
